Tyranny of Dragons: Defiance in Phlan
by Archerlord
Summary: In the Moonsea region lies the simple and peaceful town of PHlan. Yet, that peace is now threatened by dragons and puts the people at risk. Five adventurers, a triton who has traveled far from home, a dark elf who lives by a personal code of honor, a dutiful yet grim cleric, A sorceress with a draconic origin, and an alcoholic monk, each face their own challenges within Phlan.
1. The Triton and the Egg

Months had gone by since young Nalos Marsk left his home in the seas to see what the land had to offer. Like most other tritons, he was born and raised in the sea, but at seventeen years of age, he grew curious at what the land dwellers had to offer. With only the clothes on his back and the training from his old druidic circle, he left his old home to explore a new world. It was a breathtaking experience as he met all sorts of different people while taking part in odd jobs to make coin. He lived the life of the adventurer, and so far, he loved what the land had to offer.

Nalos' travels had brought him towards a town called Phlan, near the region known as the Moonsea. Unfortunately for him, work was hard to come by for him. He was thankful enough that Madame Freona, the halfing provietor of a tea shop, allowed him to stay at her place of business. He had to share his lodging with other adventurers who came and go, but it was an acceptable deal. The halfling most likely intended to draw customers in with a triton, and it worked. While drinking tea, he had the chance to meet all sorts of adventurers and hear their battles and legends. It made him more eager to continue on with his adventure soon enough.

Nalos was young for a triton and had yet to enter his twenties. His youth was clear to see on his face and was usually seen grinning. He had bright yellow eyes, light blue skin, and greenish hair that fell down to his shoulders. He wore leather armor with a scimitar and club holstered at his hips. Overall, given his unnatural appearance, many of the commonfolk grew interested in his identity, which drew them over to him.

Once more, night fell over Phlan, and Nalos was getting ready for sleep. He had walked into the common bunkroom, earning the brief attention of a few of the new adventurers as they have never seen one of his kind before. The triton grinned at them and made his way over to his bunk, ready to doff his leather armor and get some shut eye. A quiet knock came from the door as a familiar head poked into the room. Reece, the eldest of Madame Freona's daughters, with red curly hair, poked her head through the door when it was opened.

"Pardon my interruption, but is Nalos still here?" She asked.

"Over here!" Nalos waved his hand towards Reece. "Need anything."

"A chap came into the common room downstairs and asked me to fetch you," she told him, two fingers playing with her hair nervously. "He was wearing a hood, so I don't know who he was, but he said that it was quick coin for an easy job."

"Looks like my name is starting to spread," Nalos grinned. "Quick coin. Easy job. My kind of work. Let's see what this man has to say."

Reece disappeared as quickly as she came, leaving Nalos to head down to the common room. This was the first job he was able to find in weeks, and he certainly was not going to let it go when it was so close. Maybe it was a little bit shady but it would not be the first kind of job like that, and most of the times, they were not all terrible. It was time to get back into action.

Nalos left the bunk room and head straight down the stairs. During the day, the tables of the common room were crowded while light conversation took place. Now that it was night, it was empty with the servers gone and the lanterns on the tables dimly lit. Towards the active fireplace, a man sat on a cushioned chair, hands clasped together as he looked as the fire. Like Reece described, the triton was unable to make out any details about the stranger because of the hood that covered his face. He took a seat at the chair next to him, coughing into his arm.

"So, who are you?" Nalos asked, arms crossed.

"No names, please," the stranger insisted, taking a brief glance towards him "All you need to know is that I'm a Harper."

"What's a Harper?" Nalos continued his questioning.

"I should have saw that coming," the man sighed, and showed the harp-shaped pin on his tunic. "To make it short, the Harpers are out to protect the world from evil. Sounds fair?"

"Sounds fair," Nalos nodded. "So, Mr. Harper, what do you need my help with?"

"We don't have a lot of time, so I'll skip right to the chase," the Harper explained. "Recently, we have captured a black market merchant a few days ago. He planned on purchasing a red dragon egg, which is illegal."

"That isn't any good at all," Nalos commented. "I've heard stories of how dragons razed down entire villages."

"We planned on having someone take the merchant's place so we can get our hands on the egg, but there was one problem," the Harper continued. "The merchant was a triton."

"That's why you need me," Nalos grinned. "I know. I really am special like that. How much will I be paid? Oh, and before you change your mind about anything, I know for a fact that I'm the only triton in town."

"We already knew that, which is why we will pay you two hundred gold," the Harper told him.

"Deal!" Nalos exclaimed.

Through the odd jobs Nalos completed earned him coin to get by during his travels, it did not pay too much. After paying for expenses and entertainment, he was left with little coin. Over the months, he had managed to save a total a ten gold. Now, this Harper, whoever he was, wanted to pay for a job that only a triton could do. He would be set for life once he completed the job, so it was an easy offer to take.

The Harper reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bag and another silver pin. He handed the two objects over to Nalos, who inspected them closely. He could sense a small amount of magic coming from the pin, which was no surprise to the triton. He took a peek inside the bag and gasped at the sight of the diamonds. If this was the payment for the red dragon egg, then he might just skip town with his newfound prize.

"Your job is to exchange these fake diamonds over to the seller for the egg, and bring it back to me," the Harper instructed, earning a disappointed frown from Nalos. "I will be behind the stables at the Tea Kettle."

"Where's this all happening?" Nalos sighed out.

"At a barn on the northern outskirts of town," the Harper answered. "A few things to know about the deal. No names will be exchanged: you are the buyer and the seller is the seller. You must place the pin on the seller so we can track them down. As such, you are not to confront the buyer violently. Now, the deal was suppose to happen five minutes ago, so get going."

Nalos did not respond to the Harper when he was told the time of the meeting. He got up from the chair and burst out into the sprint, out of the tea shop within seconds. While running, he made sure to pocket the bag of fake diamonds and hid the pin up his sleeve. Two hundred gold was at stake and he was not going to fail on his new quest. This was going to be how he makes it to the next stage of his life as an adventurer. One day, the whole world was going to know the name of Nalos Marsk.

* * *

It took Nalos a good twenty minute walk to get to the barn, which had its doors open. He stepped inside, noticing many different hay bills and farming equipment spread throughout the dusty ground. A ladder led up to the loft, which, unlike the ground floor, was lit up with lanterns. That was where the seller was waiting, especially with this level of the barn being empty. Without hesitation, the triton started to climb up the ladder, soon arriving to the loft.

Sure enough, like Nalos expected, the seller was there. The seller was a female elf with a slim build, gray clothing, and long brown hair. Behind her were three men, who looked impatient and had their hands on the hilts of their weapons. Of course the seller would have brought guards. Given how lucrative this deal was, she needed some protection in case anything went wrong. The triton wished he brought some guards with him if only to put up a better act. Now, he seemed like a nobody, which might raise some flags.

"I told you he would come," the seller grinned, taking a glance towards the impatient guards. "A dragon egg is much too valuable to pass up."

"Indeed it is," Nalos took a few steps forward, causing the guards to raise their weapons.

"That'll be far enough," the seller warned, turning to face him. "Let's do this quickly," she motions to her backpack. "Here is what you asked for. You throw the payment over and we will leave the egg here. We will exit the barn, and then, you can leave after five minutes have passed. No fuss, no muss."

"Of course, but I do have one thing I have to ask of you," Nalos told her, extending his right hand forward. "It is customary of my people to shake hands when making a deal."

"Hold on, something isn't right," the seller frowned. "My sources told me that you would be left handed."

"From your perspective, this is my left hand," Nalos remarked with a grin. "Also, I found that people are more inclined to shake with their right hands. I believe that is more polite. What isn't polite is for you to disrespect the culture of my people, the magnificent tritons, by not following this simple custom. Perhaps I would be better off take my business elsewhere."

Nalos grinned, believing that he got the seller right where he wanted her. If she was going to make a sell tonight, she would have to take him up on his handshake, during which he would be able to put the pin on her sleeve. He doubt that she would turn him down. If she did so, it would mean that she skips out on the payment for the egg now. To empathize on his point, he used his left hand to grab the bag, giving it a little shake to tempt the seller.

The seller sighed, shook her head, then slowly approached Nalos. Seeing her come, he made sure to subtlety pull the pin to the palm of his hand, keeping it angled at a way she would not see it. The elf extended her hand and the two shook upon the deal. Before their hands met, he flicked the pin towards her sleeve, and his grin grew wider when it pierced her clothing without her knowledge. Afterwards, he handed the bag of diamonds over to her, and she signalled for her men to follow her down the loft.

Nalos stood on the loft, watching the guards follow the seller down the ladder one by one. Once they were gone, he grabbed the backpack the seller left behind and took a glance inside. Just as the seller promised, there was a large, red egg resting in it. The triton closed the backpack and slung it over one shoulder before climbing down the ladder. He was told to wait five minutes, and to be on the safe side, he would wait that time.

When a brutish half-orc entered the barn, brandishing his mace, Nalos realized that he would have to leave early now.

"The toll for out of this barn is that egg," the orc threatened. "I'm sure you will hand it over peacefully so I don't have to take your lives instead."

"Big talk coming from a big guy," Nalos smirked. "You'll find that I'm not that easy to kill, especially when there's only one of you."

The half-orc grinned, snapping his fingers four times. Behind him, two men wielding scimitars came inside the barn, taking their places next to the thuggish leader. Nalos heard footsteps from above the loft and took a brief glance upwards. Much to his surprise, there were two more men up there, each holding out a net. Whoever these criminals were, they had been preparing for this deal. The triton was heavily outnumbered, but he did not come this far to lose now. He was going to leave the barn with the egg intact, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve to deal with his newfound foes.

Nalos muttered an incantation in Primordial while the three bandits approached. With the incantation finished, a cloud of fog centered on himself quickly formed and spread throughout the barn, acting as concealment from the thugs. He quickly dashed to the side, hearing the two from above throw their nets down. Given how he did not feel any nets, they must have missed. He crouched down, and waited patiently.

"Damn it!" the half-orc grunted. "You two, get down here! Everyone else, with me!"

Nalos heard footsteps, meaning that they were now heading into the fog. He grinned that they have fallen right into his trap. They would not be able to see within the fog, giving him the element of surprise. Granted, the triton could not see anything but white fog as well, but he had a few more tricks up his sleeve. He muttered another incantation in Primordial, and brought his hands to his chest. With ease, he swung his fists out and sent out a booming Thunderwave towards the leader and his two lackies. The trio screamed as they were shocked, followed by a large thud as they slammed against the ground outside the fog.

"I got him, boss!" a bandit screamed out, swinging his scimitar.

"Too slow!" Nalos taunted while ducking under the blade.

"Everyone, into the fog!" the half-orc ordered.

Nalos was fortunate enough that at least two of the bandits were blasted away, giving him time to handle the one who held his ground. He pulled out the scimitar and club sheathed at his hip and took a combat stance. The triton was a capable fighter in his own right. He might have focused on spellcasting, but asides from his cantrips, he only had the stamina left for one more spell. He needed to save it for when the rest of the bandits gathered up.

With his weapons out, Nalos dashed towards where the bandit swung his blade out previously. With a slash of his scimitar, he cut across the bandit's chest. He quickly followed up with a club swing, but only cut through fog. The triton took a step back from the bandit's own strike, panting out. The last Thunderwave cleared out some of the fog, allowing for Nalos to get a brief outline of the half-orc and his remaining men approaching. He was surrounded, and he could not be even more happier.

Once more, Nalos brought his hands over his chest, careful not to cut himself with his scimitar. He chanted, more loudly, in Primordial, and brought his hands out to unleash his final Thunderwave. It was more powerful than the previous one, clearing the fog completely and blasting all of the bandits down to the ground. Two of them laid unmoving while the half-orc and the other two groaned. The way to the door was clear with no one able to stop him.

"This was fun, but I have places to be," Nalos told them with a grin. "See you later!"

"After him!" the half-orc growled from the ground.

While the bandits were getting up from the ground, Nalos sprinted out of the barn, and sidestepped to hide behind one of the doors. Maybe he could have outran the bandits, but if they tracked him down, the Harper may not be too pleased. It was best to handle the problem now before it escalated even further. He was out of spells but that did not make him any less of a cunning foe.

The two bandits quickly stormed out of the barn, trying to look for their prey. Nalos quickly emerged from the door and swung his scimitar across the neck of the closest bandit. It cut across his throat with ease and ended his life. The other bandit turned to face the triton only to be dispatched with a club strike to his head, landing on the ground unmoving. The triton turned to face inside the barn, seeing the thug standing up and holding onto his mace in anger.

"You know, after a lot of thought, maybe I should have over that egg," Nalos remarked.

"I'm gonna kill you!" The half-orc roared out.

"You're gonna have to catch me first!" Nalos winked.

Nalos quickly pivoted around to face away from the barn and ran away. The half-orc fell to his taunting and chased after him furiously. For him, this was personal, and he was not going to give up until one of them was dead. While running, the triton muttered in Primordial, using Shillelagh to imbue his club with nature's power. Such a simple cantrip would be enough to give him an edge in the upcoming round of battle.

Now prepared to finish the battle once and for all, Nalos turned back to face the charging half-orc. The half-orc roared out loudly, his anger blinding him. When the thug grew nearer, the triton quickly stepped to the side, and slashed his scimitar across his opponent's chest. The half-orc ran past him, giving the druid time to pivot around to face his exposed back. Not giving him time to react, he slammed his club on the back of his opponent's back. There was a sickening crack and the leader fell face first into the ground, down for the count.

Nalos panted after the battle was over, exhausted from the brief chase and duel. He was not use to such physical exertion, but in the end, he prevailed over the mysterious criminals. He started to make his way back to Madame Freona's Tea Kettle, ready to put this job behind him. With no further opposition left, all he had to do was deliver the egg to the Harper and accept his payment. Maybe by telling his employer about the trouble he had to face, he might get a little extra coin.

* * *

Just like he claimed, the Harper was waiting for Nalos back at the stables behind the Tea Kettle. He unslung the backpack from over his shoulder and handed it over to his employer. He opened it and carefully pulled the red egg out from inside, giving it a thorough inspection. He tapped on the egg shell gently and finally sighed in disappointment. The hooded man put the egg back inside the backpack, then looked Nalos right in his eyes.

"It's a fake," the Harper informed him. "I am sorry to have put you through all that work."

"If it's a fake, I should have gave it up to the armed men I fought," Nalos chuckled. "On the bright side, I pinned the tracking pin to the seller."

"Good work on that," the Harper complimented. "The group that attacked you was most likely the Welcomer's, Phlan's thieves guild. I'm surprised that you escaped without a single scratch."

"I am a man of many surprises," Nalos grinned. "Now, about my payment."

"Of course," the Harper handed over two bags. "The first bag has the promised two hundred gold. The second is a potion of health, a consolation for the effort you had to go through."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Harper," Nalos nodded.

"Keep your eyes and ears open," the Harper advised. "The Harpers have seen an increased interest in all things related to dragons. We have also heard of more dragon sightings in the Moonsea region and elsewhere. Stay alert for more information on dragons. It might just save your life."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Nalos yawned while walking away. "But unless a dragon attacks tonight, I'm more worried about getting some sleep."

With a grin, Nalos made his way back into the Tea Kettle, putting the two bags onto his belt. The payment was enough to make a living in Phlan for the time being. And if the Harper's warning was true, there was bound to be even more jobs for him. Dragons were a big a deal, and if there were more sighted in the region, then someone needed to deal with them. That would be a fight for another day. For now, after all he went through, he needed rest.

* * *

 **A/N: Yet another story? You know it.**

 **For now, this will be the last DnD story I'll post for the Tyranny of Dragons arc. This will be more of an introduction to the characters that will be adventuring in Phlan. A series of one-shots focusing on a single character. I'm pretty confident that it will develop into a series with the characters meeting up soon enough. For the timeline, the events that take place in this story take place BEFORE the events of Defense of Greenest and Corruption in Kryptgarden respectively.**

 **Until next time.**


	2. Value of Family

_Dearest Sister,_

 _It has been two days since I have arrived in the Moonsea region. Per your suggestion, I have chosen the town of Phlan to settle in. I am aware of the odd looks that the people give me, which was to be expected, of course. Thankfully, a halfling going by Madame Freona has offered me lodging in her Tea Kettle. She and her daughters have offered me a kind enough reception, for which I am thankful for. This is a temporary offer, for once I raise the coin for it, I intend to book a permanent room at an inn, one where I won't have to share with others._

 _I have been keeping my ears open for rumors, and although I've heard many, there is one that is constant and is worthy of your attention. Multiple sightings of dragons have been reported in the region. I find it strange that such reclusive creatures are making themselves known. I urge you to relay this information to our brother, who is further along the south in the Swords Coast region. If not for his safety, then at least to keep him in the circle of information we share. He lacks the strength I possess and the wit you hold, and I fear that his charm and reflexes will not be enough to save him from a possible dragon attack._

 _I have tried to follow up on these rumors many times, but to no avail. They are spotted during the day, when I am reclusive, and when I am out and about in the night, they are resting. I wish there was more I could do, but the sun beats down on me this far in the north. Additionally, the Welcomers, Phlan's guild of thieves, has been targeting me during my nightly excursions. I have faced them once already, and luck would have it, I found out that there was a complication with one of their recent operations, one to steal a dragon egg. I will keep you updated at this story develops._

Arannis Uthmar lifted his quill from the parchment and returned it to the bottle of ink, freshly opened. He was a dark elf, a sight that stood out in this simple town of Phlan. His smoke gray skin and clean white hair separated him from the local high elves and wood elves of the land. He wore leather armor with a red cape and his three blades, a shortsword, a longsword, and an handaxe respectively, sheathed at his hip, and a longbow holstered across his back. With the letter written, he closed his yellow eyes in deep thought.

The Uthmar family had long been exiled from their home in the Underdark, and accommodating to the surface world was rough. His sister, the head of the family, worked on earning a spot for her and her brothers in their new world. To that end, she dispatched her two elder brothers, twins, to the Sword Coast and Moonsea to earn coin to send back to the family. There were many jobs offered in Phlan, but most of them were during the day. His eyes had yet, and mostly would not, adjust to the bright sun. Even with his hat with a ridiculously large brim, which rested on his leg, working during the day was too much for him to handle.

As such, Arannis was limited to working during the night and indoors. Finding legitimate work was rare then with the only jobs being the illegal kind. He remembered his sister's words well: that he lacked the discretion needed for illegitimate jobs and that he should keep his head down. Much to his liking, there was pit fighting that was not persecuted by the Black Fist, the guards of Phlan. His sister would kill him if she found out that he competed in pit fights, but they earned enough coin to send back to her.

Arannis opened his eyes upon hearing light footsteps, seeing Briez, one of Freona's daughters with black hair, approaching with a plate of biscuits covered in jam.

"Breakfast, sir," Briez set the plate down on his table in the common room. "I hope it is to your liking."

"Thank you," Arannis took one of the biscuits and took a bite out of it. The bread was warm, freshly baked, and the cold jam was sweet. "It's good. Where did you get the jam from?"

"My sisters and I picked the wildberries ourselves," Briez told him, sweeping some of her black hair out of her face. "Some say the wildberries in this area are-"

The young halfling was interrupted by a loud shriek coming from the streets outside. Arannis immediately stood up, his elven ears picking up on the scene. It was a woman who was incoherent with her words. Yet, the dark elf was able to make out the words of what she said. She called out for help and spoke of family, although not of what happened. He put his hat on, took a biscuit from the plate, and tossed a few copper coins on the table for Briez, who looked on in shock. Although it was morning and the sun was out, there was no one else to help in the Tea Kettle.

Arannis stepped out from the building, the sun blinding him for a moment. Even with the hat partially shielding him, his head ached while his eyes adjusted to the sun. He kept his gaze down to the ground, catching a sight of a woman with brown hair and an old dress. In her hands, she clutched an infant child, who screamed out loudly as well. The dark elf made his way over to her and knelt down, making sure to keep his back towards the sun.

"Ma'am, calm down," Arannis tried to assure her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"

"G-goblins," she muttered. "T-took my f-family."

"Took?" Arannis raised an eyebrow. "They were taking prisoners?"

"Y-yes," she nodded. "T-they're alive. Need h-help."

"Clear the area!" a voice boomed out. "She's just making a scene."

Arannis glared at two men, each wearing dark armor. Guards of the Black Fist trying to break up the scene, as they called it.. If only they knew the trouble she was in. One of the guards started to shoo away the crowd that was gathering, telling them to get along with their business. The other guard grabbed onto the woman, trying to drag her away. She screamed out louder and managed to break free from his grip. He advanced on her only to be intercepted by the dark elf, who grabbed his wrist. The two locked eyes with intense anger showing.

"She needs help," Arannis spoke bluntly. "Her family was taken by goblins."

"Nothing we can do about it," the Black Fist soldier told him, rolling his eyes. "That's Millivent Moss. Her husband works as a peat farmer in a bog outside of Phlan."

"And?" Arannis asked.

"Outside of Phlan," the guard repeated himself. "Out of our jurisdiction. Nothing we can do other than remove the screaming woman from the streets."

"You're just going to do nothing about this threat," Arannis questioned, his anger growing.

"You should let go of my hand," the guard threatened, his free hand reaching down to his sword's hilt.

"Make me," Arannis challenged.

"Hold on a moment," the second Black Fist soldier walked up, trying to defuse the situation. "There is something we can do."

The second guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He held it out to Arannis, who took a glimpse at it. With a sigh, he released the man's wrist and snatched the slip from his hands. He took a quick glance to read it over, seeing it as an offer from the Black Fists. Simple and blunt: for services rendered, the city will over fifty gold pieces from its coffer. The dark elf was about the call out the guards for pushing their problems away, but they had managed to run away. He shook his head in disappointment, knowing that he was going to have to take action into his own hands.

Millivent sat on the side of the street, no longer screaming while rocking her infant son in her arms. The child started to calm down as well, and eventually, passed into a gentle sleep. Arannis pocketed the note, deciding it would be best not to bring it up. He would have helped her regardless of payment. The dark elf took a seat next to her and clasped his hands together. He kept his eyes focused on the ground, trying to hide from the sun's wrath.

"I will help you," Arannis declared. "I need you to take me to where the goblins attacked your family."

"What about Bo?" Millivent asked, holding her child close to her chest. "Who will watch over him?"

"Madame Freona should be able to help," Arannis told her. "I will be waiting outside."

Millivent nodded and stood up, making her way inside into the Tea Kettle. Arannis stood up as well, adjusting his hat while looking down on the ground. To others, helping out the family for a meager award was not worth his time. To him, helping out a family in need was worth all the time in the world. The dark elf valued traits such as strength, determination, and honor, but none of that compared to family. He would ensure that Millivent and Bo would be reunited with the rest of their family, no matter the effort required from him.

* * *

To make the journey go smoothly, Millivent offered to take Arannis there on her cart. While she was fleeing from the goblins, she had been fortunate enough to grab a cart to escape on. It made the journey go by much swifter, and eventually, they came across the Moss family farm. For having suffered a goblin raid, it was in good enough shape and still in standing. It meant that the creatures were after prisoners, something the dark elf found strange.

"I saw the goblins dragging away the people towards the east," Millivent told him. "You will save everyone?"

"How many goblins were there?" Arannis hopped off the cart. "How many prisoners are there?"

"I couldn't keep track of the goblins," Millivent sighed, growing teary-eyed. "They took my husband, Haldred, my daughters, Allenea and and Kithian, and my sons, Quayle and Volland. The farmhands are also missing, so they have to have been taken as well."

"I'll find them," Arannis told her, walking off. "Stay safe."

Even with the afternoon sun glaring down on him, Arannis kept his gaze down and was able to find the goblin's tracks. Or rather, drag marks of their prisoners being pulled across the deep mud of the bogs. He was able to make out footprints within the mud as well, smaller ones that a goblin would have. Finally, leading the goblins and prisoners were a set of heavy footprints, much larger than a goblin. Much larger than a human. The leader of the raiders was certainly no goblin and would be a threat needed to be taken down if encountered.

Arannis followed the tracks, keeping one hand on the hilt of his longsword at all times. His feet sunk into the mud and he was careful not to tread through the open water of the swamps. The bogs were not to his liking as it slowed down his travel by several minutes. Eventually, he came upon a hill rising from the bog, a cave mouth revealing the goblin's lair. He smirke, glad that the sun was positioned as not to blind him from looking at it.

When he saw that the cave entrance was being watched, he took shelter behind a bush, eyeing the mouth carefully. A goblin stood guard, watching a human approach expectantly. Arannis was taken back by the man's appearance and the goblin's acceptance of him. It was clear to him that there was more at stake than a simple raid. The dark elf observed the two from his distance, and with how silent it was in the bog, their voices carried out throughout the area.

"Only one raiding group returned," the goblin reported in Broken Common. "They bring prisoners. Other raiding groups return soon. No more snake people coin found."

"Excellent. Tell Gorrunk that my friends and I will pay lots of coin and give lots of gifts for all of the dragon artifacts you can find," the man replied with a nod. "And kill any other humans you find near your home."

The goblin grunted and made his way back to the cave. Arannis emerged from the bushes, ready to engage the man in battle, only for him to disappear. A spellcaster of some sorts, meaning that this was more dangerous than he knew. To make the situation more dire, there were more goblins. He could easily take on the dozen in there and Gorrunk, whoever he was, but anymore was too much of a risk. The time to think had passed. It was now time to act.

Arannis pulled out his two swords, and without hesitation, ran straight into the cave. The marsh was replaced by the stone walls of the goblin's lair, a narrow tunnel that curved off to the east. His vision adjusted to the darkness and the dark elf grinned, his hat falling down on the ground behind him. No more sun to worry about blinding him now. Taking a turn to the right, he felt a wire snap under his foot, followed by a bell ringing. Entering the room, he made notice of a wolf pelt draped across the wall, likely an entrance. From behind it, he heard voices cry out. Not like he needed the element of surprise.

Arannis stabbed both of his blades into the ground, having them go across each other, and pulled out his longbow. Nocking an arrow on it, he knew that he was preparing to fight a battle. He took a deep breath in, and broke through the wolf pelt drape. There were two goblins on the other side, guarding over wolves in the cage. Without hesitation, he let his arrow fly, letting in strike against the rock wall. The dark elf cursed, knowing that he needed to work on his archery.

One goblin charged forward while the other made his way over to the cages. Arannis knew better than to let it release the other wolves out, and with another arrow pulled out, fired it at that goblin. The arrow struck him in the thigh and failed to stop him from opening the cage. The wolf, loyal to its master, leapt from its cell, and ran after the dark elf. The warrior remain calm despite the pressure, and with another arrow, silenced the goblin with a shot to the neck. At least he no longer had to worry about anymore wolves joining the battle.

So distracted on the goblin by the cages, he had let his guard down on the other goblin. With ease, he struck across Arannis' guts, leaving a nasty slash that pierced through his leather armor. The dark elf grunted in pain, and with the wolf advancing on him, knew it was time for a temporary fall retreat. He disengaged from his foes, running back through the wolf drape. Goblin and wolf alike followed him through, seeing him pull out both swords from the ground after dropping his longbow from the ground.

Arannis grinned, glad to have his swords in his hands. Unlike his bow, he was more accustomed to using his blades. The first goblin ran up only to be decapitated by a swift strike from his longsword. The dark elf tried to lung down on the wolf with his shortsword at the same time, but the beast was swifter than he was. It dove past his blade and bit its fangs into his exposed leg. He swung both blades down on the wolf's exposed back, putting an end to its life and kicked it off his leg.

With the first battle over, he took deep breaths. Slowly, the sensation of battle started to overcome him. When he sustained injuries from fighting, it only made him more excited for more action. That excitement served to numb the pain he experienced, allowing him to fight unhindered. He flicked the goblin and wolf blood from his blades and sheathed them. The dark elf picked up his longbow, nocked another arrow on it, and made his way further into the goblin's lair.

Arannis made his way into the final room, seeing that it was more furnished than the others. Tables and chairs were laid out with cells towards the back, housing about a dozen humans or so. Three goblins were seated on the chairs with their leader, a massive bugbear holding a morningstar and obsidian in his shield. He turned to face the dark elf, grinning as he battered his weapon against his shield, openly challenging the intruder.

"You dare to kill my goblins," the bugbear laughed out loudly. "You dare challenge Gorrunk the-GRAH!"

"Sorry, I couldn't hear you over your screaming," Arannis nocked another arrow after his first struck Gorrunk in the shoulder. "Could you repeat that?"

"Kill him!" Gorrunk ordered.

"Go ahead and try," Arannis smirked.

The goblins started to rush down from their chairs, but one of them was shot and pinned to the wooden table by an arrow, ending his life. The remaining two charged with Gorrunk, heading straight for Arannis. He calmly threw his bow aside, pulled out his handaxe, and hurled it at one of the goblins. The axe head embedded itself in the goblin's skull, who crashed into the ground. With only two more foes charging at him, the dark elf backed himself into a corner and pulled out both of his swords.

Gorrunk and the goblin tried to strike at Arannis, who avoided both of their strikes with ease. He effortlessly decapitated the remaining goblin with his longsword and slashed his shortsword across the bugbear's face. Gorrunk grunted, blood dripping from his open wound. A much tougher opponent than his goblin minions, it would seem. He swung both blades down at both shoulders, leaving nasty gashes. The warlord started to show fear, almost backing away from the battle.

"Take the prisoners and leave!" Gorrunk demanded. "Our fight is over."

"Our fight doesn't end until one of us is dead," Arannis told him.

"But I'm surrendering!" Gorrunk shot back.

"You lost your chance to surrender the moment you thought to challenge me," Arannis shrugged. "You have three options: let me strike you down now, kill me, or die in battle and die with dignity."

"You die!" Gorrunk shouted/

Gorrunk grunted, and with no other way out, had to continue fighting. Without any warning, he swung his morningstar into Arannis' ribs. He let out a scream as the air was shot out from his lungs. He could feel that some of his ribs from such a blow. He stepped back against the wall, ready to make a final stand. Knowing that going in with an assault would leave him open for a lethal assault, he prepared to dodge and let the bugbear come to him, taking a deep breath as time seemed to slow down to him.

Gorrunk fell to the trap easily enough and charged forward, swinging his morningstar crashing down on Arannis. The dark elf pivoted around on his feet, avoiding blow entirely. He continued to spin around, longsword aimed at his chest. The bugbear growled and slammed his scaled shield out towards the exposed arm, pushing it out of the way. The warrior swore he heard something pop and gritted his teeth in pain. One shortsword stab, going straight through his gut and completely through his back while cutting the spine, ended his opponent's life.

Arannis threw Gorrunk off his blade, taking deep breaths. The battle was over and the excitement faded, now replaced by pain. It shot throughout his whole body and he knew that he would need medical attention soon. The dark elf snatched a pair of keys from the fallen bugbear and made his way over to the cages, walking with a noticeable limp. With the battle concluded, he opened the cage for the prisoners, who started to pour out from their prison.

"More goblins are coming," Arannis warned. "We need to get you back to the farm."

"Thank you, stranger," the lead farmer thanked. "We won't forget your good deed!"

The farmer, his children, and the farmhands left. As one of the farmhands, one towards the back, tried to follow suit, Arannis pulled out his longsword and held it towards his neck. The man looked surprised, backing away as he was separated from the other prisoners. The dark elf knew that this man was not a farm hand. His black clothing resembled that of what one would wear underneath metal armor, and excluding the children and farmer, there were already six farm hands who had passed. This man was an imposter.

"Easy there with that blade," the man advised. "The name's Chaab."

"Who're you with, Chaab?" Arannis questioned. "If you value your life, you will not lie."

"It should be you who should know who they're messing with," Chaab gulped. "I'm with the Zhentarim."

"A misunderstanding then," Arannis sheathed his blade. "We have much to talk about now."

* * *

"By the Gods!" Briez exclaimed when Arannis walked into the Tea Kettle. "What happened to you?!"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Arannis tried to assure her.

Not having any healing magic, his own or of an ally, Arannis relied on basic first aid to treat his injuries from battle. The Moss family was more than happy to help treat him, which would have been impossible on his own. White cloth strips were wrapped tightly around his leg from where the wolf bit him. The top of his leather armor was off, revealing his lean build that was mostly covered in similar strips. His right arm was in a sling from where Gorrunk had bashed him. Briez, who was mopping the floor as the Tea Kettle prepared to close for the night, looked on in shock. The other patrons, gathered for nightly conversation, gave odd looks.

"You're going to live, right?" Briez asked nervously.

"I should," Arannis took off his hat and walked over to his table. "Could I get something to eat for dinner?"

"Of course!" Briez nodded quickly. "Your biscuits grew stale and your ink dried out. I got you a new bottle, unopened, and left your letter right where you left it. I didn't read it either!"

"Thank you for your service," Arannis smiled.

Arannis sat down at his table, letting out a sigh of relief. The patrons returned to their business while Briez ran off to the kitchens. Just as the halfling promised, his letter was left in place with a new bottle of ink and quill. With his left hand, the dark elf opened the ink and wetted his quill in it. Part of him was tempted to start a new letter entirely given the latest developments. Yet, he thought best to continue the current letter with his new information. Sloppily, he started to write on the letter with his left hand.

 _Please do send word to your superiors within the Zhentarim that I was responsible for saving one of their agents, a man named Chaab. He has reported that the rumors about the dragons were true and how a black dragon was slain by adventurers. Goblins occupied its lair, which I found. I have taken a black dragon scale from their leader, who used it as a shield, and intend to sell it as coin for our family. I will keep you updated on the events._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your brother,_

 _Arannis Uthmar_

* * *

 **A/N: And we are introduced to the second member of our cast. Also, heads up, but some of you reading my other DnD works may notice that I'm taking a break. Since this story is mainly one-shots, and I always intended to get it done with one month, I shall continue this during my hiatus.**

 **Until next time.**


	3. A Sacred Duty

Nordak Durthane took a sip from the cup of tea, letting out a sigh of relief. It was warm and not scolding at all with the right amount of herbs mixed in. There were many different adventurers gathered at other tables, sharing stories of their conflicts and travels. The Tea Kettle was a hot spot for such travelers, even though the dwarf never considered himself to be an adventurer. The only thing he had in common with this lot was that he hated staying in the same place for too long. He had no interest in saving day. He had no interest in seeing the world. He just cannot stand being idle for far too long.

Being the only dwarf lodging in the Tea Kettle, Nordak was among the shortest of travelers. He was at least content to be taller than Madam Freona and her daughters. He was marked as a cleric of Kelemvor by his holy symbol, a pair of scales that hung from his neck. The dwarf kept his hood raised, covering most of his dark hair except for two braids that fell down onto his shoulders. Likewise, his beard was braided into two braids right underneath his mustache. Underneath his cloak, he wore leather armor, with his mace holstered at his side. His crossbow and quiver of bolts were to his side.

Taking another sip from his cup, Nordak could not help himself but smirk. Although he was no adventurer, he certainly was armed to the teeth as if he was one. Yet, unlike them, he had more purpose than gold and glory. His purpose for fighting was his duty. The cleric took solemn oaths to see that any undead were destroyed. The cycle of life and death was sacred to his god, and undeath only made mockery of it. It was his divine purpose that brought him out to Phlan.

As if on cue, the doors to the Tea Kettle barged wide open, revealing a tall human in dark robes and wearing a black hat enter. He took off his hat, revealing his balding brown hair and his face full of sorrow. Nordak locked eyes with the man, who gave him a quick nod. The dwarf motioned to an open chair by him and finished his tea. Grelinda, the youngest of Freona's daughters with copper green hair, took the empty cup while muttering something about her work. The man took a seat across from the cleric, setting his hat on his lap.

"Ye kept me waitin'," Nordak clasped his hands together. "Not that I don't mind. Gave me time te try th' tea here. Not bad."

"I apologize for keeping you waiting," the man nodded. "I am glad that you answered my letters."

"Nay problem at all, Brother Keefe," Nordak replied. "So, what de ye need me te de."

"As I have explained in my letter, I am Keeper of the Dead of Valhingen Graveyard, the overseer of the permanent residents, if you would," Brother Keefe explained. "Disinterment of the residents is one of my many duties, and it is why I asked you to come here."

"Havin' problems with undead?" Nordak asked, leaning forward.

"Not quite, but there are other problems," Keefe sighed. "Evidence has been brought up that Xandria Welltran was not a human, but a green dragon. A polymorphed one."

"That is a big claim," Nordak relaxed in his chair. "Nay sure why ye need me fer such a job. Anyone can analyze bones."

"I have to go into her crypt to confirm if these rumors are true or false," Keefe told him. "However, there is something much more going on. I tried to tell the others, but no one would listen to me. Some even laughed. So I thought to approach an outsider to help me. I will give you a hundred gold for your aid, and if we encounter any trouble, I'll throw in a spell scroll for Protection from Evil and Good."

Nordak stroked one of his beard braids in deep thought. This was a bit below his pay grade for someone trained to fight undead and he did not work for coin. The lad was probably nervous about there being a dragon in his graveyard. Just a rumor as far as he was concern. Yet, the dwarf could not help but think about what if there was some truth to the story. Dragon bones would be a powerful asset for someone with ill intentions to get their hands on. Perhaps it was better to be safe by ensuring Keefe completed his job.

"Ye make a temptin' offer, lad," Nordak told Keefe. "An' had ye not included th' scroll, I would have laughed in yer face just like th' others. Just so happens I could use such a spell with my line o' work. Count me in."

"Excellent!" Keefe exclaimed, shooting off from his chair. "Let us be off to the graveyard at once!"

When Keefe turned his back on him to rush out of the Tea Kettle, there was a faint smile on Nordak's lips. It was relaxing to see others taking their duty to Kelemvor seriously as he did. Their line of work was sacred to their god and something that the dwarf intended to go through until he grew old. The cleric stood up from his chair and grabbed his crossbow and quiver. He holstered them across his back and made his way to follow the priest.

* * *

The two Kelemvorites walked through the streets until they came upon the graveyard. Nordak was surprised to see that it was so lively for such a place. The flowers by the various graves were tended to and the iron gates were polished thoroughly. There was not a single weed in sight. There were people who tended to graveyards, but during his years of travels, the dwarf had never seen one in such a state.

"Give my regards te th' gravekeeper," Nordak told Keefe. "They've done a wonderful job."

"Doomguide Glandon himself sees to the maintenance of the graveyard," Keefe informed Nordak. "Every morning, he's out inspecting the yard and seeing that it is kept to shape."

Nordak nodded, glad to see that the elder of the church was responsible for keeping up with his duties. The two walked down a dirt path, the graves disappearing and replaced with crypts. They were grand in size and built with the finest marble and stone offered in Phlan. It was to such a crypt that Keefe walked up to, pulling out a key from his cloak. The priest unlocked the door, allowing for the two Kelemvorites to step into the crypt.

Much like the exterior, the interior was also fine in quality. The walls of the crypt were engraved with many different scenes, each featuring a young, human woman. For the first, she looked out towards a mountain, the peak covered in stone. In the next, she was caught in a dangerous and powerful thunderstorm. Then, she was seated in a room with a comfortable fire. In a garden, she clutched onto a deadly snake. Finally, she was in a lab, working with various vials.

In the center of the crypt was the sarcophagus, finely crafted out of marble. On the surface, the same woman on the walls was engraved. Keefe opened the lid of the sarcophagus to reveal the remains of the woman. Decay had taken its course on her remains, leaving only bones. Strangely enough, there were five gems of varying color with the body as well. Nordak reached into the container, pulling out one of the bones, and examined it closely.

"Hmm…" Nordak stroke his beard braid closely. "Ayep, not human."

"Draconic?" Keefe asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Aye," Nordak nodded.

"This is terrible," Keefe muttered under his breath. "The Doomguide will need to hear of this at once.

"I'm not done yet, lad," Nordak placed the bone back with the body. "There are other bones missin'."

"Missing?!" Keefe gulped.

"Aye," Nordak repeated himself. "A leg. Th' lower jaw. Some ribs. A hand. A few toes…"

"How could someone have gotten in here?" Keefe asked out loud. "Only I and the Doomguide have a key."

"Maybe th' gems are a key," Nordak mused, taking a red one from the sarcophagus. "They're no jewelry."

"The sarcophagus has been moved," Keefe motioned his hand to the scratch marks on the ground. "And the carvings on the wall-"

Keefe was interrupted by a scraping across the stone ground. Nordak glanced at the door, seeing it slide shut. The priest screamed out in panic, running towards the door to try to pull it free. The dwarf muttered a curse in his native tongue, now hearing a hissing sound. He instinctively took a sniff and gagged. There was gas pouring into the room and it was terrible. With his comrade clawing at the door, it was up to the cleric to put a stop to their death trap, and he was confident that the gems played a part in it.

Nordak snatched the four other gems from the sarcophagus and held his breath. He turned to the walls, seeing that there were hollow holes in the five different carvings, just like Keefe tried to tell him. Looking at the gems, he recalled that they were all the colors of chromatic dragons. That was the key to their salvation. The dwarf recalled as much as he could about chromatic dragons while running to the walls, fumbling with the gems in his hands.

White had to do with snow, so it would go with the mountain. It was hard to stand to reach something so high, but he managed with his life on the line. Blue went with the lightning and red with the raging fire. Nordak grinned, glad to see that such a puzzle was so simple, even someone who knew little of dragons could get by with it. The green stone went into the fang of the snake, and finally, the black stone went into the vial. On cue, the door swung open, allowing the gas to clear the room. The sarcophagus slid across the floor, revealing a secret passage.

"Ye alright, lad?" Nordak asked, glancing towards Keefe.

"I'll live," Keefe breathed.

"So, this answers yer question," Nordak looked at the new entrance. "Stairs. Dusty except fer two trails o' footprints. So, shall we go down?"

"No way!" Keefe explained. "I am of no magic or martial prowess. Please, you have to go down for me and investigate. I'll be waiting here for your return."

"Aye," Nordak nodded. "See ye then."

Nordak pulled out his crossbow, bolt loaded in the weapon already. Slowly, he descended down the stairs, keeping his guard raised. His dwarven eyes naturally adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see. The stairs descended sharply downwards until the passage continued to the left. He followed the path until he came upon a chamber. Three skeletons of draconic origin stood at attention, although they were unmoving. Towards the back of the room was a throne on a raised a dias.

Any adventurer might have been foolish enough to mess with the throne or skeletons, but not Nordak. The dwarf knew better than to start a big problem. Instead, he continued following the path, crossbow raised all the same. It was only a few more seconds until he came upon a new chamber: a lab. There were various tables set with alchemy potions and books set up. He walked up to the central table, marked with a blue clay pot, and read the note present.

 _Raaxil, I have figured out how to complete the process. When you are ready, simply pour the contents of this blue pot into the caldron and stir. The effects should be instantaneous, but DO NOT DRINK THE RESULTING POTION_

Nordak let out a hearty chuckle and spat into the blue pot. Only a fool, like an adventurer, would bother trying to complete a dangerous ritual. He had no business performing such evil acts. He had a job to do, and a job to remain focus on. He pressed on, crossbow raised, and enter the passage that spiraled down. Twice, he had avoided the obvious traps that adventurers would have fallen victim to. The cleric grinned, ready to see what else awaited him in these catacombs.

Finally, Nordak arrived in the final chamber. Much like above, the walls were painted, although the scenes had no significant meaning this time around. However, they all pointed to a single alcove to his side, showing a large pile of gold that did not interest the dwarf in the slightest. Focusing on the paintings, he took notice of glyphs drawn into the wall as well, with one being above in the southern alcove while the rest were just above his height. Lying down on the ground across the chamber were corpses, four in total. They appeared to be humanoid until the cleric noticed the extra features: tails, wings, scales and the like.

Towards the corner of the room, Nordak found what he was looking for: a teleportation circle underneath one of the glyphs. He approached it wearily and sheathed his crossbow. His dwarven senses told him that it had been crafted recently, within the hour. He cursed, realizing that whoever was here likely overheard the secret entrance open and made their way to escape. He was no wizard, so for him, the mystery would go unsolved.

Nordak let out a slight gasp upon hearing a groan from behind him. The four bodies stood up from the ground, limping towards him rapidly. Zombies, from the looks of it. The dwarf was fortunate enough to pull out his mace just in time to block the first zombie's claws. He ducked underneath the second attack but the third clawed across his face, leaving a nasty gash upon his cheek. When the fourth tried to attack, the cleric shoved at its legs, pushing it against the wall while breaking free from the pack of zombies, panting from exhaustion.

While taking a few steps back from the zombies, Nordak was quick to notice a strange sight. Only three of the zombies stood, with one of them on the ground, motionless. While they regained their momentum, the dwarf looked for answers. Sure enough, he realized that the zombie he slammed into the wall struck the rune, marring it. The other three runes flashed brightly, connecting them to the zombies' lives. The cleric grinned, loving when a plan came together.

Nordak quickly struck at the rune he was close, creating a jagged line through it. The rune dimmed and one of the zombies collapsed to the ground. Two down, two to go. The dwarf ran towards the rune on the far wall, chased by the remaining two opponents. Given how short his legs were, he knew that he would not make it in time before the zombies caught up to him. Instead, he stopped just in front of the rune and turned around to face the undead creations. He was swift enough to trip one of the zombies into the rune, marking and ending the both of them.

The remaining zombie bit down into his shoulder.

Nordak screamed out in pain, shoving the final zombie off of him and onto the ground. His mace fell down onto the ground while the undead creature slowly pushed itself off from the ground. The dwarf clutched at his chest, chanting in dwarvish. The pain diminished slowly, although the wound remain. He could have healed the wound easily enough with Cure Wounds, but instead, he cast False Life. It was to remind him that he was on borrowed time and that he needed to end this conflict now.

The final rune that remained was the one at the alcove, above his reach. Even if he could hold onto his mace, it would do no good. It was going to take a shot from his crossbow to finish the job. His good hand reached for his weapon while the zombie dove for him. Nordak jumped to the side, pulling out his crossbow and taking aim with one hand. He pulled the trigger, and the bolt slammed into the rune. It dimmed from the strike and the final zombie collapsed onto the ground.

With the fight over, Nordak saw no reason to continue exploring the catacombs. Once back on the surface, he would be able to tend to his wounds. Let the other Kelemvorites investigate the lair. As for the gold, it would be a generous donation from him to the church. The dwarf holstered his crossbow and picked up his mace, attaching it as his belt. He made his way back through the tunnel, praying to Kelemvor that the skeletons he saw were still inactive.

* * *

Nordak's eyes adjusted to the light as he climbed up the stairs. Thankfully, the skeletons remained inactive when he passed by. The door leading into the crypt was still opened and the sarcophagus was closed. Outside in the graveyard, Brother Keefe was pacing back and forth, unsure of what to do. When he saw the dwarf stepped out, he sighed out in relief, then quickly panicked. The cleric chuckled, realizing that his wounds would probably scare off a lot of people.

"By Kelemvor, what happened?!" Keefe rushed over to him. "I don't know any healing magic."

"I'll live, lad," Nordak told him sternly. "Don't go treatin' me like a child needin' te be nursed. As fer what happened, yer goin' te want te send men down there. Until ye get reinforcements, don't touch anything! There were people behind th' theft, but they fled before I could git te 'em."

"Do you know who was behind this?" Keefe asked.  
"Nay clue," Nordak shrugged. "Some o' th' zombies I faced had draconic features if that's help."

"Perhaps they were trying to create a Dracolich," Keefe muttered. "The Lord's Alliance was right."

"Yer with the Lord's Alliance?" Nordak questioned, raising his eyebrow.

"Of course," Keefe nodded. "They're the ones who told me about these rumors. They also told me the Welcomers are also interested in dragons as well. I must be off. For your services."

Keefe took off his hat, put a pouch of gold and scroll in it, and set it down on the ground. With a grim nod, he made his way off, leaving the dwarf behind. Nordak was taken aback by the revelation, but saw no reason to take action. The Lord's Alliance was a lawful order, one that would make sure Phlan stayed orderly. As far as he was concerned, Brother Keefe was a friend he could rely on. They both had a common and shared goal.

Nordak took his reward from the hat, leaving it on the grave, and walked away from the crypt. He was not one for staying in one town for too long, but it was clear to him that trouble was brewing in Phlan. The dwarf would rather not leave the town only to hear that it fell to undead shortly after his departure. For the time being, he would remain in Phlan, and ensure that it is kept safe. All he had left to do now was find somewhere to stay for the time.

* * *

 **A/N: I tried to avoid going on a brief hiatus, but ultimately, I failed. To make up for that. I present the final three stories of this fanfic, all in one night. Hoped you enjoyed part one.**

 **Until next time.**


	4. Dragon Toothache

When Hana Zuriko picked the Tea Kettle for her lodging, she never expected that Madam Freona's Tea Kettle would be so packed. Each of the tables had a patron or two occupying it. Some enjoyed their meal in silence while others took in the company of others in conversation. The traveling sorceress kept to herself, enjoying the tea that Blaizette, one of Freona's daughters, served her. The halfling woman worked alone in serving the different customers, trying her best to keep a smile. The human woman admired her server's persistence as the hard and busy work did not drive a wedge in her helpful attitude.

A wanderlust drove Hana away from her home, hidden in the shadows of the Dragonsword Mountains in the west. Her tribe believed that they were descended from dragons, and as such, revered them greatly. Still, she sought to see the world, although she could not explain why. Perhaps it was her draconic blood that moved her towards her next destination. When her eldest sister questioned her before she left, the sorceress simply shrugged and told her this was something she had to do. That was three years ago, and although she missed her home, she had seen many amazing sights that she would never have saw if she did not leave.

Hana was a slim woman with tanned, complex skin that marked her as a foreigner to Phlan. She wore bright yellow robes that covered her shoulders down past her knees, revealing her bare feet. She had a red scarf wrapped around her robes with red lines tattooed on her ankles, which ascend up towards the rest of the body. A yellow headband wrapped around her black hair, keeping it out of the way of her crimson eyes, a signifying mark of her draconic nature.

Although Hana thought she looked out of place, it seemed like the Tea Kettle accepted all sorts of oddities. Towards one table as an elven woman, her leather armor covered in dirt, and had a fine looking bow with a strange purple hue on the wood. At another table was a white dragonborn, someone who definitely stood out. The sorceress was interested in learning more about the stranger, but her paranoia drove her off. Asides from those two, a group of halfling men gathered, speaking loudly in their native tongue, and wore bright colors. Her sightseeing was interrupted when a half-orc approached her table, pulling up a table and sitting down next to her.

"Just act normal," the half-orc told her through a clenched smile."Listen closely."

"You have my attention," Hana sipped from her cup of tea.

"My name is Buhrell Caah, and I represent the Emerald Enclave," the half-orc introduced. "Everyone's life might be in danger."

"How so?" Hana questioned, setting her cup down on the table.

"An associate told me that a potentially devastating magical item was brought into the Tea Kettle," Buhrell explained. "We don't know what it looks like or who has it, but I need your help in finding it."

"You turn to a stranger for aid," Hana mused. "I can assist."

"While I talk to the management, I need you to talk to the customers, especially those you find suspicious," Buhrell directed. "Try not to let them know of your mission. We wouldn't want them to set off the item by mistake."

"It shall be done," Hana noded.

Buhrell returned her nod and stood up from his pulled chair. As quickly as he came, he was gone, walking up to Blaizette. Hana did not question his choice on convincing a stranger to aid him. He was a desperate man wanting to protect the people, and the tea here was quite good. The sorceress would prefer not to see the Tea Kettle destroyed by whatever magic the item holds. And if the item was really magical like the half-orc told her, she could find it easily. It would draw attention to herself, but that was a sacrifice she would have to make.

Hana clasped her hands together, concentrating with her eyes closed, and whispered in Draconic. She felt herself from from her seat, now floating in the air. Such was a consequence of using her powers, although she questioned why using them had her float in the air. Like the sorceress expected, she could feel all eyes drawn on her, but it did not matter to her. The spell was successful in detecting the magic around the Tea Kettle, making her job much more easier. She opened her eyes while she slowly fell down into her chair, quickly looking around at the patrons.

The elf ranger had a magical item in her pouch, although Hana was quick to rule her out as a suspect. Travelers like her carried magical items, so she doubt it was her. One of the halflings also held magic in their pouch, but they looked like they bore no ill will. An elderly woman had a magical necklace, which usually was more protective than dangerous. A man with a bowl of soup wrote with a magical quill, but who ever heard of a pen that could endanger the lives of many?

There was only one final source of magic within the room. A finely dressed man kept something in his pouch while he talked to a dwarven woman of similar status. A pack was between them, radiating magic. Even when she used magic, neither turned to take in on the sight, focused on their business. Neither of them had the look of adventurers about them, and the man looked too old to be traveling. It had to be him. Hana stood up from her chair and made her away over to the duo. Finally, the dwarven woman looked at her with a glare, and tapped her knuckle on the table to alert the man.

"We need to talk," Hana told them.

"Private meeting," the man told her, looking away.

"Aye, lass," the dwarf waved her off. "Ye best git movin' on."

"Your friend is trying to hide," Hana observed, reaching for his pack. "I'll give it back if you have nothing to hide."

"No you're not!" the man exclaimed.

The two humans grabbed onto the pack at once while the dwarf scooted back on her chair nervously. The two tugged on it roughly, and the man, who had his hand on the cover of it, pulled it free. A glass sphere fell from the pack, crashing into the ground with a loud crack. Before Hana could get a good look at it, the man dove for the object, but suddenly, lighting slammed into him. Nothing natural, definitely magic. He remained on the ground, clutching a dagger-like object while quivering on the ground.

The dwarf woman shot from her chair and made a dash for the door. Hana was not going to let the woman get away and quickly launched herself in a tackle. She collided into the suspect roughly, grabbing at her arms while positioned her weight to keep her pinned. All eyes were drawn to the scene, although no one was sure if they should intervene. The dwarf struggled against the tight grip, not ready to give up just yet.

"You're going to talk, or else you'll end up like your friend," Hana threatened, her teeth clenched.

"Aye," the dwarf sighed in defeat.

"Who are you with?" Hana harshly questioned.

"Th' Ironclad Guild," the dwarf admitted. "That man wanted te sell me a blue dragon tooth te help us. I didn't know it had any magic, I swear!"

Hana grunted, and shoved the woman towards Buhrell, who was quick to restrain the dwarf for further questioning. She made her way over to the man as the lightning from him jumped towards the man with the pen, sending him crashing down to the ground with a scream. The sorceress ignored him, focusing her attention on a curved tooth in the man's hand. She grabbed it, feeling a painful jolt go through her arm. She gritted her teeth as she pulled the item free.

Yet, much to Hana's surprise, the man, whom she thought was killed, stood up, and without another word, made his way out of the Tea Kettle. She thought about restraining him, but remembering the electricity, stepped away from him. The magical lightning from the writer jumped into the elven ranger, who likewise collapsed in agony. The sorceress stood about helpless, clutching the tooth in anger. While the writer walked out to the streets and held hands with the old man. The woman had no idea what was going on while Buhrell ran over to the writer's old table, reading from his parchment.

"Safflower oil," Buhrell muttered, his eyes drawn towards the woman. "And that purple hue is wood from the Quivering Forest."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Hana asked.

"It's jumping from people who have been in contact with the Quivering Forest," Buhrell concluded. "That's how we can bottle up the lightning!"

The lightning shot out of the elven woman and through the door. While the ranger made her way to join the old man and the writer, Hana and Buhrell pushed her aside from the entrance and made their ways onto the street. During their short time in the Tea Kettle, the lightning jumped into a dwarven girl with a necklace of flowers. She made her way to join the others, the lightning now in an elven man, who was writhing by his cart of flowers.

Taking a moment to watch, Hana came upon a single observation: the flowers on the girl's necklace and the flowers in the elf's cart were the same. She knew what had to be done next. The sorceress rushed over to the cart, grabbing a handful of flowers and covering the tooth in them. She stepped back from the elf and held the tooth out towards him. She prayed to her ancestors that the lightning would not harm her as it did the others. The woman hoped her last ditch effort to put this lightning to an end would actually work.

The lightning surged from the elf, who collapsed onto the ground with a thud, and towards Hana. She held her eyes closed, her hair twitching while the lightning circled and wrapped itself around her forearm. Thankfully, instead of going into her, it surged into the tooth. The victims in the circle collapsed onto the ground with Buhrell rushing over to press two fingers against the old man's neck. With a sigh of relief, he nodded, and made his way over to his ally.

"They live," Hana commented. "That's good. The man probably didn't know the trouble he was getting himself into."

"You can say that again," Buhrell nodded, holding his hand out to her. "The tooth is too dangerous. I can take it off your hands and deliver it to the Emerald Enclave. We can handle the rest from there."

Hana looked down at the tooth slowly. Buhrell did not realize it, but it held a certain significance for her. Although her tribe revered dragons, only the elders held items that belonged to the mighty beasts of legends. Those elders were considered legends who faced these dragons in their own tales. The sorceress thought she could return home and become like those heroes, like her sister. But this was not how she wanted to do it. She needed to encounter an actual dragon for her claims to work.

"Take it," Hana placed the tooth in the half-orc's hands. "And make sure it doesn't harm anyone else."

"Of course," Buhrell pocketed the tooth, then handed a pouch to her. "For your services: gold, and a potion of healing. May it serve you well."

"Thank you," Hana took the pouch. "I will return to my tea now. With this coin, I can stay in Phlan for a few more days."

"Be aware of the guilds then," Buhrell advised. "I've been keeping an eye on them, and they've been gaining more power. Who knows that they will accomplish in the upcoming weeks and months."

"Of course," Hana agreed. "Take care."

Buhrell nodded and quickly rushed over to help the unconscious victims. Others from the crowd joined to aid him, but not Hana. Her work her was done, and she had a cup of tea waiting for her. She made her way to the Tea Kettle, hoping that it would be in service despite the incident that took place. The sorceress was curious on where her journey would take her and if the guilds had something planned. Only one way to find out: watch the events unfold before her.

* * *

 **A/N: One scene, no combat. I suppose this chapter will serve as character interaction then. Like with my previous works, I balance interaction and action to maintain a good story. Hoped you enjoy part two.**

 **Until next time.**


	5. Jailbreak

"Come on," Pallas Semele begged. "One more drink. You know I'm good for it."

"Afraid not, sir," Whittlee, a halfling girl with white hair, shook her head. "Ma told me that you've been nothing but trouble. You have to pay your tab."

"Bah," Pallas hiccuped. "Fine. In the morning, I'll pack up and go elsewhere to drink."

"You'll have to leave tonight," Whittlee informed him. "Ma's orders. If you don't pay off your tab before nightfall, you can't sleep here. Now, I got other customers to attend to, sir."

Whittlee walked away, leaving Pallas to look out at the window. The sun was already setting, earning a sigh from the half-elf. The Tea Kettle was known for a lodge for adventurers and good tea, but thankfully, it also served decent ale. The half-elf was more interested in a cold drink, and although Madam Freona charged him for the ale, she let him sleep with the adventurers for free. Now, that deal was coming to an end. In his defense, it was one fight he started. Granted, he started it because he was bored, but it was just one fight.

It was clear to see that Pallas was not a man of wealth or privilege. Any assumption that he had no coin on him would be completely accurate. The half-elf was slim to the point that it was unhealthy. The rags he wore were gray, covered in dirt, and mostly torn. He had no shoes and covered his feet and legs with white cloth like one would use to bind an injury. His rugged brownish hair was unkempt with a small patch of hair hanging from his chin. He kept his green eyes narrowed and cross, making it hard to get an accurate reading from him.

Pallas only had one possession that would be of any value: a rough looking drinking horn sheathed at his hip. It was as long as his hand to his forearm and resembled a tusk of some strange beast. Many different collectors offered coin for it, even though it was in rough shape. And each time, the half-elf turned them away with a shrug. He was desperate to find a place to sleep and eat, but not that desperate. He had a good run at the Tea Kettle. It was time to pack up and find somewhere else to rest up.

The door to the Tea Kettle opened, revealing a gnome wearing patchwork clothes and carried a floppy hat in his calloused hands. There was a look of worry on his face. Pallas realized that he was probably looking to hire an adventurer for the job. All eyes were on the gnome, who looked about the crowd until settling his eyes on the half-elf. The urchin cursed under his breath when the small man made his way over to his table, ignoring the jabs and glares from other customers looking for work.

"Are you an adventurer?" the gnome asked.

"No," Pallas shook his head. "Leave me alone."

"Please, my little girl is in trouble," the man told him, voice cracking. "Will you hear my story?"

"Again, no." Pallas denied sternly. "Now, why don't you go sod off and-"

"I can pay!" the gnome interrupted quickly.

"I'm listening," Pallas changed his mind. "Go ahead and tell me your troubles, friend."

"My name is Rilo Leadstopper, and I am a tinkerer," the gnome introduced. "My little girl, Villonah, is in trouble. After her mother died, she became a wild thing. She gets into trouble with the law constantly."

"I don't mess with guards, sir," Pallas tried to wave him off. "Good talk."

"Please, keep listening," Rilo begged while continuing. "She's only guilty of minor offenses, and the Black Fist have her down as a usual suspect for crimes. Last night, they arrested her without telling me any charges. I thought I could pay her bail at Castle Valjevo, like before, but the guards told me she wasn't in jail."

"Then she wasn't in jail," Pallas shrugged. "How is that not a problem?"

"I asked around the more, well, seedy people," Rilo admitted with a sigh. "A cutpurse told me that there is a secret prison ran by the Black Fist guards. Without their superior's knowledge, they murder and torture prisoners. To make matters worse, I heard my daughter stole from one of those guards."

"Report it to the guards," Pallas told him. "I'm no good at finding secret prisons."

"But I know where the entrance is!" Rilo told him. "A tunnel by River Stojanow that leads underneath the ruins of the Lyceum of the Black Lord. I can't trust the Black Fist for the job, so I need your help. I can pay fifty gold if you agree to aid me, and I'll throw a fine magnifying glass!"

"Fifty gold, huh?" Pallas stroked the long strand of hair on his chin. "Enough to pay off my tab. Guess I'll help out. Lead the way."

Rilo smiled, the worry on his face disappearing for a moment, as he practically ran out the door. Pallas stood up from his chair and stretched up. He smirked upon seeing the various adventurers glaring at him. They were looking for an opportunity to earn more coin, and the half-elf, who was no adventurer as much as he was a desperate man looking for a coin, took their job. He placed his hands into his rags and followed suit after the gnome. Maybe his luck would turn around.

* * *

For a entrance into a secret prison ran by murderers, they had awful security. Rilo led Pallas to the tunnel, which was unguarded, and directed him to go find his daughter. He entered the tunnel, thankful that his elven blood allowed him to see in the dark. For several minutes he walked, expecting for a guard or trap to hinder his progress. Yet, the only thing stopping any intruder was a shoddy door that marked the entrance to the prison.

Pallas grabbed at the door knob and twisted it in an attempt to open it. It remained in place, locked. So, the criminals did have some sort of security in place. Nothing that he could not break through. He reached into his rags, pulling out a dart and pin. With the pin, he picks the lock, allowing for the half-elf to open the door. He stepped into the next room.

In the room were eight cages, five of which contained prisoners. A door by the cages was barred shut with there being another door directly in front of him. In the center of the room was a stone chair bolted down to the ground, likely for interrogation. Asides from that, there were many other torture devices spread throughout the room. Pallas was sickened by the sight and wish he had something to drink to clear his mind of the dark images in his head. The prisoners, upon seeing someone that was not a torturer, almost ran against the metal bars, making a ruckus.

"A savior!" one of them cried out. "Save us, please!"

"Silence," Pallas sternly whispered, walking to the cells. "I'll get you out, but you're going to let the guards know."

"Sorry," a prisoner with one ear whispered. "Can you get us out."

"I'm on it," Pallas headed off to pick the lock of the first cell. "Any of you know a gnome named Villonah?"

"The gnome was taken to the Funhouse," one of the prisoners answered, motioning to the barred door. "The guards take prisoners there to execute later Once the guards are off break, she's a goner."

"Where's the fun with that?" Pallas cracked. "I'll dispatch the guards first. Saves me the trouble of doing it later."

Breaking through four locks was not too hard with his pin. He was tempted to release the fifth prisoner, who was huddled into the corner and muttering murderous thoughts. Pallas was reminded that there was a reason that they were locked up and decided not to free the final one. The other four prisoners already ran off and the half-elf was not interested in subduing the prisoners now that he came upon that realization. They were guilty of minor crimes at best and he had guards to take care of before they continue their acts of villainy.

Pallas walked over to the unbarred door, and without hesitation, struck it with his foot, knocking it back. Four guards were gathered around a table, enjoying a game of cards, with a giant dog sleeping on a pile of hay in the corner. The men were unarmed and without armor and looked towards the door in shock. The half-elf grinned, having the element of surprise, and threw the dart in his hand at the guard in the front. It landed at his neck, distracting the criminal long enough for the monk to close the distance and punch him in the face. People assumed he was too lean to be too hard of a hitter. There was much more to a punch than muscle mass.

The guard he punched was dazed but returned with his own jab, landing at Pallas' gut. He grunted, grabbing at his drinking horn, and swung it the guard. It soared passed him but a following punch sent him crashing down onto the table, out cold. The half-elf was thankful that his horn was as strong as a wooden mug, making it an efficient makeshift weapon. While the dog woke up in the corner, the remaining three criminals surrounded him and started using their numbers to take advantage and beat down on the intruder. Their blows hurt him but his punches were more powerful. Precision beats strength anyday.

He swung out with the drinking horn, smacking one guard across the face with it. A punch at his throat knocked him down, out cold like his comrade. He ducked under the remaining two punches, missed with his horn, but punched another man. He backed away, seeing that their attack dog was getting ready to join the fight. The half-elf hated beating animals, but seeing as how it was more deadly than the two before him, it took priority.

While he was busy analyzing the battle, one of the guards struck him across the face. Pallas backed away from the attack of the second guard, and swung his drinking horn down on the dog, followed by a kick from the gut. The dog growled in anger and pain and launched out to bite down on the half-elf. He raised his mug in between its jaw, and as it clamped down, there was a sick crack of one of its teeth falling out. The drinking horn was his weapon of choice for a reason. He pulled it free from the whimpering dog and knocked it out with a swift jab at its skull.

Pallas turned back to face the two men, both of whom charged to punch at him. He shifted his body out of the first punch and raised his mug to block the second punch. There was a sick crack of a fist breaking as the fist connected with the tough ivory of the horn. The half-elf was swift to take advantage of the injured guard, punching him right in the face. The man's nose broke when his opponent slammed his horn against it in quick succession. Finally, a jab to the side of the face knocked him out.

The final guard, frightened but with nowhere left to turn to, struck out against Pallas, smacking into his lean chest. He grinned, ready to put an end to the battle. With his free hand, he motioned for the man to continue his attack. The guard punched out at the half-elf, only for his fist to sail pass him. Without hesitation, he swung his horn up at the man's chin in a critical uppercut, then brought his free hand down on the top of his head. The strength of the blows coming upon his skull was enough to knock the pour man out. With the criminals knocked out, it would be easy to report them while releasing their dog out to the open.

With no more threats to deal with, Pallas made his way back to the prison and walked over to the barred door. The guards bruised him somewhat with their attacks but it was nothing he could not handle. It took him some time to remove the boards, but eventually, he was able to pull them free. With the door now opened to him, the half-elf kicked down another door, revealing what was once a grand chamber that had fallen into shambles.

What walls there were had collapsed long ago, making way for earth and stone to take their place. Obelisks were set up across the room and they did looked very ominous. Pallas made sure to stay far away from them while making his way towards the cage in the center. It was small, but for the female gnome within, it was rather grand. She was seated on the cold ground, arms grabbing at her legs as she cradled herself.

"Can't run away," Villonah whispered. "Can't run away."

"Oh, you'll be fine," Pallas assured her, reaching into his pockets. "I'll have you out of there in a moment."

"Can't run away," Villonah repeated.

"Ayep, just got to take care of one thing," Pallas pulled a dart from his rags.

"Can't run away."

"Just gotta kill the grick that thinks I can't see it," Pallas motioned towards the side of the room. "Pesky bastards they are."

"Can't run away."

"How did I see it?" Pallas smirked. "Elven blood, I suppose. Truth be told, I don't know. It's just different from the other rocks, and it's coming closer."

Without hesitation, Pallas threw his dart at what seemed like a regular boulder in the corner. Yet, as it connected, the rock screeched out, revealing itself to be a grick, like he claimed. Continuing with his attack, Pallas ran up and punched it, aiming for a precise blow. His hand connected with its hard shell, but it screeched out louder than he did. Punching rock may not be seem like the best idea, but what choice did he have at this point? It was either it or him.

The grick prepared to attack, uncurling its long tentacles. Pallas was familiar with how gricks acted, and remembered that they grappled someone with the tentacles and then pecked them with their beak. It would be an awful way to die so he was best off to dodge the tentacles. It lashed out with his tentacles and the half-elf ducked underneath them. He closed the distance once more, slamming both horn and fist down on its rock shell. It screeched out, its natural armor doing little to protect it from the numb monk's blows.

However, with how close Pallas was now, the grick was able to wrapped its tentacles around his body, holding him in place. He struggled against its slimy tentacles and looked in horror as it opened its beak, ready to peck into his chest. He recalled a haunting story of how one adventurer was killed with a grick wrapped its tentacles around his face and pecked right into his mouth. He gulped, seeing the monster launch itself towards its chest by pulling him with its tentacles. Thankfully, at the last second, the half-elf brought his horn between his body and the beak, blocking the lethal attack.

While the grick was dazed from slamming into his mug, Pallas squatted down, and rolled away from the monster. He stood up just in time to see it swing out with its tentacle. He blocked the blow with his mug and ran forward, fist raised. The half-elf punched the grick square in the beak, earning another screech from his foe. Instead of fighting, the monster retreated deeper into the chamber. The urchin, knowing he was outmatched, decided to take this as an advantage to flee while he still can.

Pallas rushed over to the cage, prying the doors open with ease. He rushed to grab Villonah, who struggled and pushed against him, repeating her saying over and over. Eventually, he was able to pick her up and ran towards the exit. The grick screeched as he left but made no attempt to attack him. The half-elf slammed the door closed behind him and sighed out in relief. Then, the he realized that they were no longer alone. There was an elf in the room with a bow, pointing a nocked arrow right at his head.

"Drop the gnome and leave," the elf ordered.

"Fair deal," Pallas dropped the girl on the ground and raised his hand. "Her father's not going to be happy though."

"Her father?" the elf hesitated. "You mean you're not trying to torture her?"

"Does it look like I'm with the Black Fist?" Pallas motioned to his ragged clothing. "You're not with them either, right?"

"I'm not," the elf lowered her bow. "I am Yvillah of the Order of the Gauntlet. Villonah is also with the order, a valuable ally. The two of us and our comrades have been opposing the tyranny of the Black Fist."

"Well, she's yours to take," Pallas offered. "She's going to fight back. They tortured her pretty badly."

"Of course," Yvillah approached the two, holstering her bow. "She stole a valuable map from the Black Fist, one that led to the lair of a white dragon in the far north. Since the Black Fist hold the citizens of Phlan with an iron fist, their interest in dragons is bad news."

"All I'm hearing is more reasons to get the hell out of Phlan," Pallas muttered. "Get my reward from Rilo, and I'll be gone come morning."

"If that is what you wish, although we could use your help fighting the Black Fist," Yvillah told him. "For your services, though."

She held out a pouch that jingled with gold and a vial containing red liquid. Hesitantly, Pallas took the payment, realizing that this would help him out in leaving Phlan. He pocketed the two objects into his rags and ran towards the tunnel, leaving Yvillah and Villonah. This was why the half-elf stuck to the taverns and kept drinking until he was unconscious. At least then, there was no risk of getting dragged into crazy conspiracies. It was time to leave Phlan and continue with his journey.

* * *

Night had fallen during the prison break. Rilo was kind enough to give up his award after learning his daughter was safe. With enough gold to leave town, there was no reason to stay in Phlan. All he had left to do was pay off his tab. Madam Freona had once claimed she had the influence to send men after her if he skips out on paying his bill. The half-elf remembered the glares of the adventurers from before, each who would love the opportunity to chase after him. Pay off the bill first then he could leave and never look back.

It did not take Pallas too long to find the Tea Kettle once more. Even though it was closed for the night, he was able to open the door and step inside. The chairs were stacked up on tables at Whittlee, her hair undone, sweeped at the floor. She looked at the half-elf in shock, surprised that he came back with such injuries. He made his way over to the halfling girl, pulling two pouches from his ragged clothing.

"Hundred gold," Pallas told her. "I'm paying my tab."

"Sir, you owe us more than that," Whittlee told him.

"I do," Pallas raised an eyebrow. "How much do you charge for ale?"

"You broke several tables and chairs during that fight you started," Whittlee reminded him. "Several hundred gold is on your tab."

"I see," Pallas sighed. "So, am I to be kicked out to the streets now?"

"Actually, Ma heard that you took a job for once, and thus, that marks you as an adventurer," Whittlee informed him. "You get to rest here for free now."

"Do I get to add more drinks to my tab now?" Pallas asked quickly.

"I suppose so," Whittlee shrugged.

"Good enough," Pallas walked away, pocketing his gold. "I'll be upstairs sleeping. Tomorrow, have a cold mug ready for me. I guess I'm not going anywhere. Here's to hope the Black Fist doesn't have me hung, or a dragon eats me. Ha! Like that would ever happen."

* * *

 **A/N: And with this, we reach the conclusion of Defiance in Phlan. To those of you who have become fans of one or multiple characters, they will be back in further adventurers. I hope to write a one shot featuring them later, followed by another story and series. I hope to not keep you waiting too long for that.**

 **Until next time.**


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